


Joker

by Chocolatpen



Series: The Syndicate [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Corruption, Gangs, Humiliation, M/M, Mafia AU, Police Brutality, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Suicide Squad Influences, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatpen/pseuds/Chocolatpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“These violent delights have violent ends.”</p><p>Everyone assumes Bokuto is the crazy one in the relationship. They just don’t know how wild Akaashi really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clown Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Short sidestory for the Syndicate AU! Please read Royal Flush before this, if not it won't make much sense. Chronologically, this takes place wayyy before RF.
> 
> Inspired by Suicide Squad (Joker/Harley).
> 
> Also, if you have any queries or want to contact me outside of AO3, I just made a tumblr: chocolatpen.tumblr.com
> 
> Enjoy! And do leave some kudos/comments if you like it :)

“This is Tachibana, from one of the downtown gangs.” Konoha introduces the heavily tattooed man with a small flourish and a half-bow, the handle of his pistol glinting dangerously in the dim mood lighting.

 

Bokuto tears his gaze away from the dance floor, settling back against the plush couch and propping his leg up on his knee. His large, golden eyes glint as he surveys Tachibana – a hulking man bigger than Bokuto himself. At the corner of his eye, Bokuto spots Sarukui in the shadows; aiming straight for their guest.

 

“If there’s nothing else…” Konoha eyes Bokuto through narrowed slits, excusing himself when his boss nods in dismissal. Likewise, Sarukui stands down.

 

He doesn’t flick on the safety, though.

 

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Bokuto-san,” Tachibana says, once Konoha disappears behind the glimmering beaded blinds. Light reflects off Bokuto’s whiskey glass, gold ricocheting off his diamond ring. “I’ve heard many good things about you and your organization, and I look forward to working with you.”

 

Bokuto takes immense pleasure in the ass-kissing this man is doing to someone close to half his age – at a mere eighteen years, Bokuto is already known throughout the underground as the Prince of the Syndicate. Deceptive, dangerous, and undeniably deadly.

 

It’s unlikely anyone enters a room with him and leaves in one piece.

 

“Oh, I look forward to working with you too, Tachibana,” Taking a sip of barrel aged whisky, Bokuto grins widely. Tachibana eyes him warily, unable to do anything but watch as Bokuto spins his handgun around his middle finger.

 

As the only known heir to the Syndicate – Suga’s not counted, since he’s always so terribly sheltered by Spade-san – Bokuto has had people grovelling before him ever since the Royal Flush came into power. Of course, it’s not just his inheritence that has gotten him so much power and respect.

 

It’s also the fact that he’s a bloodthirsty killer with no conscience to speak of.

 

Tachibana is visibly sweating, even though Bokuto has done nothing but be pleasant to him. It makes Bokuto happy, how his reputation obviously precedes him.

 

“Uh… Well, you’re a really lucky guy, Bokuto-san.” Tachibana’s eyes slide to the side distractedly, his large, almost fully-inked hands weaved together on his lap. It doesn’t do much help in covering his growing boner.

 

Bokuto follows the man’s pointed gaze and tilts his head owlishly, finding the source of Tachibana’s apparent lust easily enough.

 

_Akaashi_.

 

Enclosed in a glass cage, Bokuto’s lover is sat in the middle of the dance floor.

 

Skimpily dressed, the dark haired beauty is moving his body in time with the music – a hypnotic, absurdly sexual dance that has his hips swaying and his back arching in smooth body rolls.

 

Tachibana isn’t the only one attracted to the sight. Honestly, Bokuto would be insulted _for_ Akaashi if it _had_ just been Tachibana, but it’s plain to see that anyone within a three-meter radius is watching the alluring, dark haired boy through their peripheral. He’s only sixteen, but it’s not like this particular crowd actually minds, considering the fact that they come here primarily for Bokuto’s merchandise.

 

Akaashi has an obscene amount of sexuality. It’s not something that can be denied. He possesses thick, dark curls perfect for pulling, green, heavily lidded bedroom eyes and a perpetually sultry gaze. It’s everything anyone could want, and more. Bokuto should know – Akaashi is _his_ , after all.

 

However, Bokuto is also an extremely possessive lover, and, while he does accept that he can’t kill everyone just because they look at Akaashi the way a starving dog looks at a juicy cut of meat, he doesn’t like how Tachibana goes a step further and actually _dares_ to grow _erect_ for Akaashi.

 

He can’t stand it.

 

“Oi, ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto calls, slipping his fingers into his mouth to initiate a high-pitched whistle. Tachibana startles at the sudden, loud noise, and Bokuto snorts lightly under his breath. Fuckin’ pussy.

 

Washio, standing guard beside Akaashi’s glass case, moves aside to let Akaashi through. The crowd parts like the red sea for him, bodies scrambling away even as their minds tell them to approach.

 

They’re all very aware that touching Akaashi will be the last thing they do.

 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nods politely in greeting once he’s ducked into the private lounge. Bokuto fixes a rather dark stare on him, and Akaashi’s brow arches. “Bokuto-san, what-”

 

“Keiji, this is Tachibana from the downtown,” Bokuto says, and Akaashi falls silent. There’s a wary look in his eye, since his experience with Bokuto’s violent mood swings is more extensive than most. They normally don’t end very well. At all.

 

Akaashi bows lowly at their guest. Bokuto may be treated like he’s royalty, but Akaashi is still only a lower-ranked Diamond. The only thing that sets him apart from others is his affiliation to Bokuto.

 

“Tachibana here thinks you’re really _pretty_ , Akaashi,” Bokuto purrs, the words slipping out of his mouth like knives. His eyes are dark with rage, but the fingers that wrap around Akaashi’s bare waist, tips slipping under tight latex, are gentle. “He’s been watching you the whole night.”

 

To his credit, Tachibana notices the sudden, threatening change in atmosphere. He averts his gaze from where he’d shamelessly been eyeing Akaashi’s close to naked form, and holds his hands out in placation. “Bokuto- Bokuto-san, I didn’t mean anything by it, you know. I was just appreciating the view, man, I don’t want anything else.”

 

“Oh?” And Bokuto looks thoughtful, in a way that is clear to Akaashi that he’s acting. “Do you not think that Akaashi here is good enough for you?”

 

The air around them seems to thicken with tension, and Tachibana steps back. Droplets of cold sweat roll down the sides of his face. “That’s not- that’s not what I meant! He’s yours, Bokuto-san, and you’re a really lucky guy. I don’t mean any offence, please.”

 

“That’s right,” Bokuto nods, fingers now digging painfully into Akaashi’s skin. They push past black latex, ripping it down till Bokuto’s hand rests on his lover’s hip. It’s definitely going to leave marks. Bokuto buries his nose in Akaashi’s black curls. “This is all mine, and no one else is allowed to touch him.”

 

Bokuto shoots Tachibana between the eyes even before the tattooed man can breathe a sigh of relief.

 

The body thumps to the floor with a dull thud and a wet squelch. Around them, the other patrons pay them no mind; going about their business and fully intending to ignore what they’d all witnessed.

 

After a moment, Akaashi sighs deeply. “Bokuto-san, was that really necessary?”

 

Bokuto replies Akaashi’s exasperation with a bright smile, so Akaashi simply shakes his head and cards fingers through Bokuto’s streaked hair in a soothing manner. Predictively, within a few seconds, Bokuto’s grin sharpens into something more arrogant. “Going commando, baby?”

 

“It’s not like anything can fit under this,” Akaashi rolls his eyes and tilts his chin at the ripped material at his hip. Still secured against Bokuto’s broad chest, the smaller of the two wriggles his other hand out of the bone-crushing grip and wipes at the blood that had gotten on his cheek.

 

“Sorry for getting blood on you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto murmurs, and takes a deep whiff of Akaashi’s heady, sweat-stained scent. “You’re mine. No one else can have you. He didn’t get it, so he had to die.”

 

“I’m not a piece of property, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mutters against the soft material of Bokuto’s suit, but otherwise doesn’t contest his lover’s declaration.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Tightrope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do take note of the new tags ^ the rating has been changed to explicit, and there is now going to be 5 chapters. Because everything I do seems to go overboard in some way or another.
> 
> Didn't have the opportunity for smexy times with bokuaka in RF, so here y'all go. **Reminder that Akaashi is really REALLY young (kind of).
> 
> Thanks for the support! Enjoy :)

“You liked it, didn’t you?” Bokuto’s fingers dig into Akaashi’s jaw once the elevator doors slide shut, dragging the younger boy so close that their noses are almost touching. “How those dogs drooled over you, wishing they could fuck you, hoping that I’d be nice enough to let them use your hole.”

 

Akaashi shakes his head, but Bokuto doesn’t miss the way his dick twitches in his pants. Latex is unforgiving – not that it’d ever bothered Akaashi before.

 

“Slut.” Bokuto’s lip curls. He pulls Akaashi by the jaw and slams him against the wall, bracing his forearm against the dark haired boy’s throat. “Maybe I should’ve let them all use you, since you were practically begging for it, anyway.”

 

Akaashi shakes his head frantically, mouth open and gasping for air. “No, Bokuto-san, only y-yours.”

 

“That’s right,” Bokuto’s golden gaze narrows, but he takes a step back. Akaashi slides to the floor, breathing heavily, and Bokuto’s smirk widens. “Tell me what your filthy body is useful for, slut.”

 

Akaashi raises green eyes to meet gold, reaching out to clutch at the material of Bokuto’s pants. “I belong to you, Bokuto-san. I live to pleasure you in anyway I can. Please, _fuck me_. Tear apart my worthless hole so that I’ll always belong to you.”

 

Bokuto grins just as the elevator doors slide open again, and he hauls the dark haired boy up by his upper arm. They rush through the abandoned hallways as quickly as they can, but, by the time they reach their hotel room, Bokuto’s somehow already managed to tug off Akaashi’s shirt.

 

The older boy rips off the rest of Akaashi’s booty shorts even before the door clicks shut behind them.

 

“Bend over.” Bokuto commands, watching as Akaashi moves to comply; resting his hands on the bed and raising his plump ass into the air. “Punishment time.”

 

The blows aren’t softened. Bokuto smacks him the same way he’d do so in a spar, and Akaashi’s skin turns a blotchy red by the fifth spank. He falls over with a tiny squeak on the tenth, tears streaming silently down his cheeks.

 

“Good boy.” Bokuto nods, caressing the irritated skin. Little specks of blood dot Akaashi’s ass like freckles. He wipes away Akaashi’s tears and runs a gentle hand through messy, black hair. “Now, show me how much you love me, baby.”

 

Akaashi takes a deep breath before propping himself up on his knees; quivering fingers stripping Bokuto of his pants and boxers. Bokuto pulls off his tie himself, unbuttoning his shirt but leaving it on.

 

The younger boy pulls Bokuto down onto the bed, slipping a leg over his hips once he’s lying flat. Akaashi’s asshole is still lubricated from when he’d fingered himself before their night out, and some of the thick liquid had dribbled down his thigh during his punishment.

 

“Show me how much you belong to me, Keiji,” Bokuto reaches out to rest his hands on Akaashi’s hips; his thumb drawing circles into the younger boy’s skin. “Show me.”

 

Bokuto gasps softly when Akaashi’s fingers curl around his dick, lining the swollen tip to his hole, and he outright groans when Akaashi sinks down on it – going all the way, till the back of his thighs are pressed against Bokuto’s balls. Akaashi’s beautiful features are contorted with pleasure, and he only takes a second to adjust before starting to fuck himself on Bokuto’s cock. He sets an unforgiving pace, back arching and head thrown back in ecstasy.

 

“Bo-Bokuto-san,” Akaashi moans, toes curling in pleasure as he slams himself down onto Bokuto’s cock again. The latter’s fingers are digging painfully into Akaashi’s flesh, his hips snapping upwards to meet Akaashi with violent thrusts. “I b-belong to you, Bokuto-san, only y-you. I don’t n-need anyone else.”

 

“Good boy,” Bokuto’s grin is strained with pleasure. In one smooth motion, he flips them over, finding Akaashi’s prostrate easily. Akaashi immediately becomes a moaning mess, his hair splayed up against the headboard and his knees on either side of his head. His face is flushed, eyebrows pulled together in a desperate frown even as he calls for Bokuto over and over again.

 

Akaashi reaches climax first – Bokuto has always been a considerate lover, regardless of how he may act in front of others. The dark-haired boy shudders as waves of pleasure rush through him; white ropes painting lines across Bokuto’s chest.

 

“Just a little bit- a little bit longer, baby,” Bokuto hisses as he speeds up his thrusts, hands warming the supple flesh of Akaashi’s thighs. He comes a second later, torso jerking slightly from the sensation of orgasm, and the feeling of being filled up almost sends Akaashi’s eyes rolling to the back of his head.

 

“I love you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi speaks through the haze of pleasure, reaching out to cup the older boy’s cheek. He feels utterly exhausted, eyelids fluttering in an effort to fight off sleep.

 

“I love you too, Keiji,” Bokuto replies with a chuckle. Akaashi whines when Bokuto makes to pull out, but the latter shushes him. “Don’t worry, baby, I got you covered.”

 

Akaashi jolts at the sensation of something else replacing Bokuto’s dick the moment he unsheathes himself. He cracks open an eye at his lover, whose golden eyes are sparking. “Butt plug, babe. Now, go to sleep. I’ll take over from here.”

 

Akaashi doesn’t even have the energy to blush. “But Bokuto-san-”

 

Bokuto silences him with a deep kiss that lasts a little too long to be decent, and Akaashi lies back down with a small, satisfied huff. Already tired out, he drifts off to the feeling of Bokuto wiping him down with a wet towel and thoughts of how lucky he is.

 

It’s the most restful sleep Akaashi has in a while – at least, until he’s awoken by the sound of glass shattering.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. It's a Circus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Like you said Bokuto definitely mellowed out a lot in RF. In RF we definitely see a bit of Bokuto's tenderness towards Akaashi. Here his affections are more violent than anything else... I think maybe violence is his way of showing love since he grew up in violence. Kind of like the only language he speaks." - ColourlessZero
> 
> I'm on fire!! Trying to finish this fic before this week is up!!
> 
> Thanks for the Support :) Enjoy <3

Akaashi’s first reflex is to grab Bokuto, so his arms are circled around Bokuto’s rigid torso when he opens his eyes to five armed men in their room.

 

All the windows have been smashed in – the loud shattering noise from before – and abseil ropes dangle limply on the outside of the building. The letters on the standard black uniforms identify them as a S.W.A.T team.

 

Although the Syndicate may be growing in power, they’ve yet to gain complete control over government law enforcers. Someone must have tipped off their location to the police, and, well, bagging a publicly known drug lord like Bokuto is an opportunity too good to pass up.

 

Bokuto’s arm curls tightly around Akaashi’s shoulders, drawing him even closer to his side; almost as though he were trying to make Akaashi as small as possible by tucking him under his arm. Most of their weapons are on the other side of the room, including Bokuto’s holsters and his two handguns.

 

Unarmed, at point-blank range away from five loaded assault rifles without any backup whatsoever, Bokuto and Akaashi don’t stand a chance.

 

It’s almost like something out of a drama, how two men wrestle Bokuto’s arms away from Akaashi. He stubbornly clings on to the older boy, as though his body alone could anchor him down. Think, Akaashi, _think_. How can he get them both out of this? All their attention will be concentrated on Bokuto. Surely, there’s a way for him to-

 

Without warning, arms snake around Akaashi’s waist in a vice grip. He yelps in surprise, but hangs on even tighter. No, no, _no_ , he can’t be separated from Bokuto. He _can’t_. Not under these circumstances. He won’t be able to protect Bokuto, and that’s just… _unacceptable_.

 

Beside him, Bokuto growls deeply. The sound rumbles in his chest, which vibrates against Akaashi’s ear. It’s a clear enough warning, because no one is allowed to touch Akaashi, no one except Bokuto himself, and it’s something that is respected by the majority of the underground.

 

But they’re at a disadvantage here, and these people, these _cops_ – they don’t play by their rules.

 

With a yelp, Akaashi is finally pried off Bokuto and pulled against the chest of another.

 

The effect is instantaneous.

 

“‘Kaashi!” The moment Akaashi is pulled away from him, Bokuto lashes out at the two men holding him, managing to throw them off temporarily. He ducks away from the following barrage of bullets, but then Akaashi can’t see anymore because he’s been pulled behind another man, this one holding out a gun as well. His captor is murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, but Akaashi can’t even pay attention to what he’s saying because _Bokuto is in trouble, he has to help Bokuto, Bokuto will get hurt_ -

 

“You sick fuck!” One of the men is shouting, and there’s the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Akaashi begins his struggles anew when he recognizes the pained grunt as Bokuto, but the man holding onto him is too strong. “How old is he, huh? Couldn’t even bother to get someone your own age?”

 

Were they… Were they talking about _him_?

  
Akaashi’s not a known entity, and he’s always looked young. They must think that Akaashi’s a hired escourt, or a child prostitute. It must be the only reason they can think of, assuming Akaashi is innocent.

 

He _really_ isn’t.

 

The man standing in front of Akashi shuffles sideways slightly, liberating his view enough for him to get a good grasp of the situation. Bokuto, clad only in long pajama bottoms, is being forced to kneel on the ground. The man standing in front of him has slung his gun over his shoulder in favour of cracking his knuckles. Bokuto isn’t bound, but his arms are pulled away from his body by two other men, his cheek bruised and his lip bleeding.

 

Even then, however, hurt and bleeding, Bokuto’s gaze never stops searching for Akaashi.

 

A very little known fact about the couple is that, while Bokuto may have a possessive streak, it’s _nothing_ compared to how Akaashi reacts when someone hurts Bokuto.

 

Akaashi is always watching, always observing. He’s quieter and craftier; the silent plague to Bokuto’s vociferous gun-fight. He makes his kills look like accidents and remains in the shadows, his passive nature more than happy to allow Bokuto the reins.

 

To the casual observer, Bokuto may play the part of the jealous lover to perfection. In truth, however, their relationship is only as successful as it is now because the same can be said for Akaashi. Maybe even more so, in fact – only ripped, half-way crazy drug lords don’t get hit on as much as a lithe, flexible and seemingly submissive teenager.

 

So, when Akaashi sees the wounds blossoming like flowers on his lover’s skin, and the man in front of him readying another punch, he sees _red_.

 

Bokuto’s eyes meet his from across the room, and something between them clicks. By this point, they know each other too well – even if Bokuto doesn’t want to accept it.

 

The nature of their relationship provides excellent camouflage for what they are, professionally. It’s why so few people know that Akaashi is, in fact, Bokuto’s personal bodyguard.

 

And Akaashi takes his job very, _very_ seriously.

 

With the decision made, Akaashi allows his bloodlust to take over. His body moves before he can register it, hand slipping down to his captor’s side holster the same time he bends his knee for a concise kick to the man’s balls.

 

Akaashi raises his arm, military-issue pistol in hand, before the others even realise that their comrade has fallen.

 

The room is drenched in darkness the second after Akaashi fires, and the sound of the chandelier crashing onto the floor is accompanied by loud grunts from Bokuto’s side of the room. Taking a deep breath, Akaashi retreats against the wall, where the shadows are the thickest, and begins shooting.

 

They all hit their mark – even if he has to hit some of them twice to make sure they stay down.

 

Akaashi isn’t good at hand-to-hand combat. He’s too small, only five feet seven, and he hasn’t been able to bulk like Bokuto, no matter what he’s tried. That’s why Bokuto also has Konoha, Washio and Sarukui. But Akaashi is also one of the best shots in the entire continent. Give him a dark corner and a good gun, and he can kill easily even during the darkest nights.

 

So that’s exactly what he does, watching with morbid fascination as the bodies fall one by one. Akaashi makes sure to empty his magazine into their leader’s face – he’d been the one who’d punched Bokuto.

 

Someone must have called for backup, because, all of a sudden, bright light is flooding the room and S.W.A.T teams on full alert come rushing in. Losing his advantage so early on isn’t ideal, but it’ll have to do.

 

Akaashi drops his gun and raises his arms in surrender. His distraction is more than enough-

 

“Target has escaped. Apprehending accomplice.”

 

-to allow Bokuto enough time to disappear.

 

One of the men bends Akaashi over, pulling his arms behind his back and clasping his wrists together with a pair of handcuffs. They’re all looking at him like he’s some kind of monster, but Akaashi can’t care less – Bokuto is safe. That’s all that matters.

 

Akaashi manages to sneak a glance at the face he’d disfigured. There is eyeball goop and blood everywhere, the white of bone showing through the mess of flesh and metal.

 

Somebody pukes.

 

Akaashi smiles.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Trapeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all the warnings are coming into play this chapter. If y'all are uncomfortable, do skip this chapter! LEGIT. I'm not kidding!
> 
> Last chapter will be up on Saturday!
> 
> Thanks for the Support :D Enjoy <3

Akaashi’s vision is obscured by the rough, brown fabric of some sort of cloth bag. His arms are still tied together – now not just handcuffed, but also bound up to his elbows – and they’ve been so numb for so long he can’t remember what they felt like.

 

He stiffens when he hears loud footsteps approaching, the two guards assigned to him shifting slightly at his sides.

 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? This is just some kid!” The man sounds gruff, and big; even more so than Bokuto, from the heaviness of his footfalls.

 

Akaashi flinches when the bag is yanked off his hand without warning. The man doesn’t even try to be gentle – the rough material gets caught in Akaashi’s thick hair a few times, and all he does is pull _harder_.

 

Standing at more than six feet tall, thicker than Bokuto, with a scowl permanently plastered across his sharp features, the man looks exactly how Akaashi guessed. A military man, for sure. He seems taken aback by Akaashi’s face, eyes growing a certain glint that has chills travelling down the younger boy’s spine.

 

“I’m Lieutenant Kirihara, the supervisor of this high-security shit-hole of a prison made _just_ for criminals like you.” The man sneers, gripping Akaashi’s jaw none too gently and tilting his head this way and that. It’s almost as if he were inspecting livestock. “Akaashi Keiji. Sixteen years old. You killed five of those special ops guys last night.”

 

The guards on his left and right exhange wary glances – they’d obviously not been briefed on what, exactly, Akaashi had done to warrant being sent there.

 

Kirihara reaches out to Akaashi, as if in a caress, but instead slaps him across the face. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes through the hallway. Akaashi grits his teeth, ignoring the blood trickling from his lip in favour of glaring at the lieutenant defiantly.

 

“Hmph.” Kirihara smirks. He fists a clump of Akaashi’s hair and yanks at it violently. “Come with me.”

 

Akaashi has no choice but to follow after Kirihara, his head bowed in an attempt to alleviate the pain shooting through his skull with every cruel yank. His entire body is still sore from play the night before, the butt plug shifting uncomfortably in his hole every time he takes a step.

 

Kirihara stops suddenly, tossing Akaashi against the wall as though he weighs nothing. Akaashi swallows his cry of pain, allowing himself to slide onto the floor. He’s never been treated so roughly before – even Bokuto has been careful not to leave anything other than bruises littering his skin.

 

There are more people, now, all faceless guards hiding behind their standard black uniforms and shaded visors. Kirihara stands in front of them, arms crossed over his chest and an arrogant smirk carved into his features. He’s trying to intimidate Akaashi by making him feel small, and, no matter how much Akaashi wants to deny it – it’s working.

 

“You’re some drug lord’s precious boyfriend, aren’t you?”

 

Akaashi startles, green eyes widening ever so slightly. Is his relationship with Bokuto supposed to be of any importance? As far as he knows, the government doesn’t blackmail.

 

“Bingo. An actual response.” Kirihara grins, delivering a swift kick to Akaashi’s stomach. Satisfied with the way Akaashi doubles over in pain, the lieutenant snaps his fingers. Two guards surge forward – one of them grabs Akaashi’s arms and pushes him down, so that his face is pressed against the floor, while the other props up his hips so that his ass is in the air.

 

“Aren’t you- Aren’t you supposed to be the _good_ guys?” Akaashi manages, still winded, as he feels fingers slipping under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. What the _fuck_.

 

“You’re rather pretty up here, Keiji-chan,” Kirihara compliments, tauntingly, as he squats down to Akaashi’s level. He delivers a smack to Akaashi’s butt cheek, and Akaashi winces, probably already bruising from Bokuto’s spanking. “Time to see if you’re as pretty where it matters.”

 

Akaashi can’t see any of it, but he can _feel_ how the hands tug down his pants – “What a naughty boy, no underwear?” – cool air brushing against his fevered skin. Rough hands run over already abused skin, over where he knows Bokuto’s fingers have left dark bruises, and settle over the perk globes of his ass.

 

He’s already blushing, heat heavy on his cheekbones, when his butt cheeks are spread apart; putting him on some kind of sick display for the room of guards. Kirihara sucks in a breath, and Akaashi flinches when he feels something running over puckered skin and the stopper in his hole.

 

Kirihara pries out the butt plug, tossing it to the side unceremoniously, and something in Akaashi’s tummy gurgles. He moans involuntarily at the discomfort, struggling against his restraints in an attempt to curl in on himself.

 

“T-toilet, please,” Akaashi mumbles, whining slightly when he feels _it_ coming. No one replies him. Instead, Kirihara actually pulls his legs even further apart – just before Bokuto’s come starts flowing out of his gaping hole.

 

The warm fluid drips onto his balls and down his thighs, puddling onto the ground in a white mess.

 

Akaashi falls onto his side, panting heavily, when the support around his hips is gone. Bokuto always gave him perfect aftercare, wiping him down and giving him a warm, soapy bath. He’s not going to get that here.

 

“You had all that in you all this time?” Kirihara snorts, stepping onto Akaashi’s face. The bottom of his heavy, military boot cuts into the younger boy’s delicate skin painfully. Akaashi winces. “What a fucking slut.”

 

Kirihara withdraws, and two men haul Akaashi up so that his back is propped against the wall. They pull apart his legs easily, even though Akaashi tries to fight back, exposing his limp dick to his audience of prison guards.

 

Akaashi might have confidence in his body, but having it shown off like this, in this manner – it’s _derogatory_. They’re not even treating him as if he were human.

 

“What a pretty little thing,” Kirihara murmurs, leaning in. His hot breath fans over Akaashi’s face. “Do you call him Daddy? Let him spank you and fuck you like some sort of pet?”

 

When Akaashi doesn’t reply, Kirihara stands up to his full height. “Unfortunately for you, your _Daddy_ isn’t here. _I_ am.”

 

Akaashi gasps in pain when a knife slices across his thigh, and then down his arm, on the bottom of his foot, his cheekbone. Littering his body with long, surface-deep cuts. Kirihara’s goal isn’t to maim – hurting the younger boy is more than enough.

 

Akaashi’s eyes are saturated with tears when Kirihara finally stops. The Lieutenant squats down before him and coos. “Aww, is little Keiji-chan _crying_?”

 

Kirihara reaches out and digs the knife into the flesh below Akaashi’s collarbone. The pain is _excruciating_. Akaashi writhes away from the burning touch of the knife as best as he can, but strong hands hold him down. Through the pain, Akaashi can make out the carving of a heart. A _heart_.

 

“Call me Daddy, baby,” Kirihara snarls, tugging at Akaashi’s hair harshly. It’s exactly the same words Bokuto used, but this time, Akaashi feels utterly revulsed.

 

Already dazed from the influx of pain, Akaashi obliges the lieutenant, calling out for him softly. His gaze keeps shifting in and out of focus, and he can’t concentrate on anything for more than a second. Akaashi honestly doesn’t even know if he’d made more than wrangled gurgles.

 

“Good boy.” Kirihara grins, but doesn’t remove his fingers from Akaashi’s abused skull. His other hand moves to unzip his cargo pants – deafening, in the utter silence – and pull out his half-hard dick. “You’re hungry, aren’t you? I’ll give you something even _better_ than Daddy’s milk.”

 

Akaashi’s head is tilted back, hands grasping at the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him there. Kirihara pinches Akaashi’s nose, and his mouth springs open as a reflex.

 

Kirihara takes a moment to aim, before Akaashi’s suddenly choking on urine.

 

“Drink it all up, baby,” Kirihara growls, when Akaashi gags and tries to spit it back out. “Or I’ll have a little more _fun_ with you than is strictly allowed – it’s not often we get someone so young and _so pretty_ , after all.”

 

The strong smell of ammonia assaults Akaashi’s senses as he struggles, in vain, to get away from the stream. Kirihara just laughs, moving his dick around so that he’s almost _showering_ Akaashi with his piss.

 

When he’s done, the other guards have their go; making sure to drench Akaashi from head to toe in their release. His shirt becomes heavy and translucent, and even the skin of his exposed bottom half is shiny and slick from the liquid.

 

It’s _humiliating_. Degrading to an extreme.

 

Akaashi can’t remember a time he’s ever felt so _small_.

 

When he’s finally let go, Akaashi curls into a trembling ball. Trying, for the life of him, to ignore the strong smell of ammonia that’s wafting from the shallow yellow pool he’s sitting in. Kirihara is laughing – and then Akaashi’s joints all lock in place when he’s doused with a pail of freezing, ice-cold water.

 

_Bokuto-san, please help me_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Animal Parade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Akaashi is not a damsel. In distress, yes, but absolutely not a damsel.
> 
> Thanks for the support :) Enjoy <3

What wakes Akaashi up isn’t the alarm, blaring through the prison on a loop, but the door to his cell crashing open and Kirihara’s hands circling around his neck. It’s only then, with the door wide open, that Akaashi is able to hear the siren screeching throughout the facility.

 

“You’re coming with me.” Kirihara snarls, slamming him against the wall for emphasis. Akaashi’s head has suffered so much trauma since his admittance that it feels as though his skull is splitting apart.

 

“W-what’s happening?” Akaashi asks as the vice-like grip is shifted to his wrist. Kirihara ignores him, instead pulling him out of the cell and into the hallway. He tries to start a jog, but Akaashi keeps stumbling and falling down.

 

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Kirihara growls, delivering a slap onto Akaashi’s already bruised cheek. The latter grits his teeth and exposes the soles of his feet from where he’s seated on the floor – Kirihara himself had cut them up; torn apart the skin there with a serrated knife to ‘stop him from escaping’. Seeing the damage that he had somehow forgotten he’d caused, Kirihara scowls and grabs a clump of Akaashi’s hair. “Fine, slut, I’ll drag you the whole way.”

 

“N-no, please, don’t-” Akaashi cries out when Kirihara follows through with his threat, cuffed hands grabbing onto the lieutenant’s thick wrist in a vain attempt to stop the pain. His eyes widen even further when he hears distant sounds of gunfire. Something must have compromised the prison’s security.

 

Kirihara had told him this prison is a blacksite. Only a select few people even know of the existence of the place, so whatever is causing such a commotion must be-

 

“ _Where is he_?!” The voice, filled with outrage and accompanied by loud gunshots, echoes down the hallway. “Find him, and bring him back to me. _Now_!”

 

Is that… _Bokuto_?

 

Akaashi immediately begins thrashing, even though his entire body is sore and hurting. He claws blunt nails into the soft skin of Kirihara’s wrist. “Bokuto-san? _Bokuto-san_! Please, help me-!”

 

Kirihara drops him, suddenly, cutting off the distressed cries. Before Akaashi can regain his bearings, the lieutenant hauls him up none too gently and curls a hand around Akaashi’s neck. The cold barrel of a gun meets the warm skin at Akaashi’s temple.

 

It’s just as Kirihara is backing them against the wall that Bokuto strides around the corner, flanked by a horde of gun-toting men. Their identities are concealed by animal mascot heads, but Akaashi can identify them easily enough from their body structures.

 

Bokuto looks _furious_.

 

The dark circles under his eyes make the normally shining, golden orbs look tired and sunken in. Even his normally gravity-defying hair doesn’t seem to sit right on his head; devil-horned ends drooping with his mood. When Bokuto wipes the back of his hand against his mouth, it smears a trail of blood across his lips and up to his cheeks, in the ghost of a smile.

 

“Bokuto-san-!” Akaashi’s words are choked right out of his mouth when Kirihara squeezes his jugular. Bokuto’s anger visibly spikes at the pain Akaashi is in, bloodshot eyes flashing dangerously as his fingers tighten over the gold-gilded gun.

 

“Get your hands off Akaashi _right now_.” Bokuto’s voice isn’t necessarily raised in a shout, but it’s simmering with so much anger that it’s shaking. Akaashi has never seen him this enraged. “Or I’m making no promises to leave your family alive.”

 

Kirihara laughs, loud and condescending. It’s so out of place in the tense atmosphere that even Bokuto cocks his head to the side.

 

“It seems Keiji-chan here really _is_ some big baddie’s _bitch_!” Kirihara pulls Akaashi flush against his body even though the smaller boy’s elbow is digging into his stomach. Something wet trails up the side of Akaashi’s face – Kirihara’s tongue? – and he can see Bokuto’s features contort in fury. “Do you wanna tell him about all the _fun_ we had, or shall I?”

 

“You _little_ -” Bokuto’s outraged roar is interrupted by Kirihara playfully slapping Akaashi across the cheek. The lieutenant looks at Bokuto with a smug smile stretched across his lips. “It was nice of you to leave that little _present_ in Keiji-chan here, really. The others and I found it really… _entertaining_ , to empty you out of this little slut.”

 

It takes a moment, but then Bokuto understands what Kirihara is referring to and he outright _snarls_. His fist sails into the wall with a loud crack, and even the lieutenant looks taken aback at the display of fury.

 

The truth is, Bokuto and Akaashi have never dealt with a hostage situation before – they took care of each other too well, barely allowing the other out of their sight. Akaashi had hoped, sure, but he honestly hadn’t been expecting Bokuto to come for him, at least not while he’d still been kept in the blacksite. He has no idea how Bokuto even got the coordinates to the prison.

 

“I’ll strike you a deal, Bokuto Koutarou,” Kirihara says, waving his gun around. Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi spots the little switch on the lieutenant’s handgun and almost sags from the relief that floods his system – in his panic, the asshole hadn’t even remembered to switch off the safety. “I never want to see you again. Not here or anywhere near my family. And three hundred thousand wired to my account by today. You _might_ get this dollface back if you behave.”

 

It’ll buy him a few seconds. Akaashi can do it.

 

Kirihara is smart. He knows that Bokuto will give him anything and everything in exchange for Akaashi – no, not even that. Akaashi’s _safety_ is more than enough to blackmail Bokuto out of everything he has.

 

Akaashi can work this to his advantage.

 

“Bokuto-san, please do what he says.” Akaashi’s voice is rough because of his battered throat, but his plea still manages to reach Bokuto. The panda and the monkey – Konoha and Sarukui, if Akaashi is right – exhchange looks, the hands on their machine guns flexing.

 

Bokuto’s eyes narrow, as if asking Akaashi what he’s up to. Buried beneath the haze of anger, Akaashi easily identifies the worry and concern that has Bokuto reduced to such a mess. Kirihara, on the other hand, seems delighted by this turn of events and caresses Akaashi’s face as a reward. The smaller boy winces when one of the cuts on his face reopens; Kirihara’s thumb smearing bright red over his cheekbone. Bokuto’s entire body tenses.

 

“Fine.” The drug lord grits out, once Akaashi nods at him in encouragement. He tilts his head arrogantly, chin pointing at Kirihara, as though he were looking down his nose at the lieutenant. “I’ll do what you say, but I want to touch Akaashi first. If he’s too broken – well, no one wants _damaged_ goods, do they?”

 

Bokuto’s men seem to falter at this declaration.

 

“Alright.” Kirihara spits, sounding as though he were berating himself for not thinking that Bokuto might not want Akaashi after his stint in prison. Bokuto is a drug lord, after all. The heir to the Diamonds. He might not even have the human decency to keep the younger boy, not in his blemished state.

 

They’ve thrown Kirihara off balance.

 

Given the okay, Bokuto drops his revolver before approaching Kirihara and Akaashi. In response, the gun pressed against Akaashi’s temple is pulled away and aimed straight at Bokuto instead. With the lieutenant’s attention focused entirely on Bokuto, the dark haired boy acts.

 

Akaashi’s hand slips a knife from Kirihara’s belt the same time he presses his entire weight onto the larger man. Caught off guard, the lieutenant trips and shoots – only, the second he takes to switch off the safety allows Bokuto enough time to dodge the shot.

 

Once they land on the floor, Akaashi digs his knee into Kirihara’s gut and drives the stolen knife into his wrist; simultaneously pinning him onto the floor and forcing him to let go of the gun. Kirihara screams in agony, tears of pain leaking out of the sides of his eyes – eyes that are wide and glued to the bright blood spurting out of the wound in his arm.

 

Kirihara is a professional. He knows that he’ll die of blood loss the moment the knife is pulled out of his flesh.

 

Just thinking about it has a warm and fuzzy feeling blooming in Akaashi’s chest.

 

“Keiji, Keiji, Keiji.” Bokuto is chanting, his warmth enveloping Akaashi in his entirety. Akaashi links his arms around Bokuto’s neck in a crushing hug, burying his face in the juncture of Bokuto’s neck and inhaling the comfortingly familiar scent.

 

Akaashi has missed him _so much_ – thinking that he might not be able to see Bokuto, smell him, _touch_ him, ever again. It’s relief of the highest order, a shot of liquid happiness straight into his veins.

 

“C’mon, baby. I have a bottle of vodka at home with our names on it.” Bokuto’s grinning widely, his fingers linked with Akaashi’s. He pulls, before Akaashi can warn him, and the latter crumples in on himself with a pained gasp. Alarmed, Bokuto crouches down again. “What is it, Akaashi? What’s wrong?”

 

Akashi twists slightly to expose the bottoms of his feet. They’re a bloody mess from reopened wounds, the skin there utterly ruined by long, jaggard cuts. He won’t be able to walk for a long time.

 

Bokuto’s cheery mood dissipates entirely, and, without any other warning than an animalistic snarl, empties his magazine into Kirihara’s foot. Akaashi’s chest warms in satisfaction when the lieutenant, who’s being held between Washio and a Captain Crunch mascot, howls in pain. He doesn't even sound human anymore.

 

“I’m not going to let you die until you _pay_ for what you did.” Bokuto hisses at the lieutenant, his expression darked with fury. Turning his attention away, Bokuto kisses Akaashi on the temple before hoisting him up in a bridal carry. “Don’t worry, baby. He’ll get what’s coming to him. Ten times over.”

 

Akaashi finds how Kirihara wets himself a sort of poetic justice.

 

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi says, as sincerely as he can. Bokuto’s wide, golden eyes meet his green ones; rough thumbs gently caressing the skin of Akaashi’s cheeks, before the older boy leans in for a deep kiss.

 

Akaashi reciprocates with every ounce of energy he has left.

 

 

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“All the information was correct.” Bokuto Kaoru says, sipping at her teacup daintily. “You had no reason to betray your father. Why did you?”

 

“He’s an asshole. The most corrupted chief of police this city has ever seen.” The dark haired boy shrugs. Tugging at the ropes binding him to a chair, a pair of studded earrings glints in the flourescent light. “Now, would you mind untying me?”

 

The King of Diamonds chuckles, but nonetheless waves her men forward. “Without your help, my son would have run himself into the ground looking for Akaashi. It was such a tricky place to find, as well. I should think my thanks are in order?”

 

“You know what I want.” The boy grins toothily, rubbing at his sore wrists once the ropes come undone. One of Kaoru’s men growls at the blatant disrespect, but the King herself doesn’t seem bothered by it.

 

“No gold or jewels… You’re an odd one.” Kaoru shakes her head, an amused smile playing on her features. “Welcome to the Royal Flush, Terushima Yuji.”

 

The boy smirks, winking snarkily. “Glad to be here.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

{End}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We done!
> 
> This turned out as a kind-of origin fic as well, I realise. So now you know. Why Akaashi and Terushima were so close in RF. Ohohoho. Also special thanks to ColourlessZero and ice_flow for providing me with comments I look forward to every time I post <3
> 
> Hope you guys liked this short side story! Do leave comments/kudos/bookmarks if you liked it :D Hopefully, I'll be posting more in the near future :)


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